Chapter 118
Evelyn's POV
"—and I know we haven't really had a chance to get to know each other properly," Isabella was saying. Settling into the armchair across from me. "With everything that's been happening—the engagement, the party, all the family drama—I feel like we've been ships passing in the night. But I really do want us to be friends, Evelyn."
Her voice faded in and out like a radio station losing signal. I tried to focus. To engage with whatever point she was making. But my mind kept drifting back to the night Julian had first brought me to his apartment.
The way he'd looked at me like I was something precious instead of broken. The way he'd held me after the yacht. Pressing kisses to my wet hair and promising that I was safe. That he had me. That I would never have to face the darkness alone again.
And I'd thrown it all away.
Pushed him out into the cold because I was too scared to let him see how desperately I needed him. How completely he'd wormed his way past every defense I'd spent five years building.
"—so after what happened at the party," Isabella continued, her voice dropping slightly, "I wanted you to know that I've completely cut ties with Scarlett and Vivian. I'm not making excuses for them—what they did was unforgivable." She paused, her eyes meeting mine with unexpected intensity. "Adrian told me later that you nearly drowned down there. That you held onto my ring even when the water was rising. I can't even imagine how terrifying that must have been."
It wasn't the drowning that scared me, I wanted to tell her. It was realizing, in that moment when the water closed over my head, that I didn't want to die. That I had something—someone—worth surviving for.
But I didn't say any of that. I just nodded. Letting her words wash over me while the fever climbed higher and my thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm.
She talked for what felt like hours. About the engagement party. About wedding plans. About how excited she was to become part of the Winthrop family. About Adrian's kindness, his gentleness. The way he always knew exactly what to say.
And with every word, with every glowing description of the man I'd loved first, I felt myself sinking deeper into the couch cushions. Into the fever. Into the hollow place where my heart used to be.
I must have drifted off at some point. Because when I opened my eyes again, Isabella was standing by the window. Phone pressed to her ear. Speaking in low tones to someone I couldn't see.
The light had changed. Shifted from pale gray to something warmer and more golden. Afternoon, maybe. Or evening. Time had become fluid. Meaningless.
"—yes, she's definitely sick," Isabella was saying. "No, I don't think she should be alone right now. The fever's really high and she seems disoriented." A pause. "I know, I know, but someone needs to—" Another pause. Longer this time. "Fine. But if something happens to her, it's on your conscience."
She hung up with more force than necessary. Turning back to find me watching her with half-closed eyes.
"Sorry," she said. Her smile not quite reaching her eyes this time. "I was just trying to reach Adrian, but he's in meetings all day. I thought he should know you're sick, but apparently corporate acquisitions wait for no one." She laughed, but it sounded hollow. "Story of my life, really. Always competing with Winthrop Industries for his attention."
There was something in her voice. A bitterness, maybe. Or resignation. That cut through the fever fog enough to make me focus on her properly for the first time since she'd arrived.
She looked tired, I realized. The perfect makeup couldn't quite hide the shadows under her eyes. The tightness around her mouth that spoke of sleepless nights and swallowed words.
"You should leave," I said again. My voice stronger this time. "You don't want to catch whatever this is."
"I'm not worried about getting sick." She settled back into the chair. Crossing her legs with practiced grace. "What I am worried about is you being alone in this state. So I'm staying until someone else can come sit with you, even if that someone has to be one of Julian's people."
The mention of his name was like a physical blow. I must have flinched, because Isabella's expression softened into something that looked almost like understanding.
"You had a fight," she said quietly. It wasn't a question. "You and Julian. That's why you look like your world just ended."
I wanted to deny it. To laugh it off as nothing. But the fever had stripped away my ability to lie convincingly. Had burned through the careful facades I usually wore like armor.
"We're fine," I said instead. The words automatic even as they tasted like ash. "We're... good."
"Liar." But she said it gently. Without judgment. "I've seen the way you look at him when you think no one's watching. The way he looks at you like you're the only person in the room who matters. Whatever happened between you two, it's clearly not fine."
Something in her tone made me look at her more carefully. There was knowledge in her eyes. A kind of weary wisdom that didn't match her sweet-girl image.
And suddenly I remembered. The yacht party. The way she'd watched Julian and me together. The careful distance she'd maintained.
"You knew," I said slowly. The realization cutting through the fever haze. "About us. You've known from the beginning."